


Like a tragedy, like a dark comedy

by orphan_account



Series: Like a tragedy, like a dark comedy [1]
Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Comedy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, though it isn't until the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during the end of Season 4. This is the fic that my untitled work: http://archiveofourown.org/works/824785 is a part of. Adam is growing gradually more restless. He keeps thinking about Blake and to his growing horror, he can't stop. Later, Adam finally realizes he's in love with Blake, and then it all goes to hell.</p><p>WARNING: LANGUAGE especially because it's (ANGSTY/ANGRY) Adam Levine, what do you expect?<br/>Also, abuse of italicization. Some used for Adam's thoughts/EMPHASIS (à la Josh Peck of Drake & Josh).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam muses to himself on his strange fascination with Blake. Blake calls.

Lately, something’s been really weird these past few days.

Although, it makes better sense that maybe it’s _been_ weird ever since Season 1 of The Voice, when Adam first took up this whole ‘coaching gig.’

It has something to do with Blake Shelton, not that _that,_ in itself, is not surprising in the slightest.

Clearly, Blake Shelton-gigantic country singer with a heart of gold and liver of steel _(one would assume he needed the latter for all that alcohol he consumed)_ was someone of great interest. 

But that doesn’t explain why Adam can’t stop thinking about Blake.

It really is the strangest thing.

He catches himself thinking about Blake an alarmingly high number of times a day.

Whether it’s when he’s writing a song or playing his guitar or freakin’ going on a date with a supermodel, all Adam can think about is what that dickhead might possibly be doing at that exact moment. 

He also catches himself _staring_ at Blake several times when he was recently singing ‘Love Somebody’ during the show. 

Even the guys notice to the point where James has to inquisitively call him out on it during the commercial break.

Adam has absolutely no idea why his thoughts are plagued by a charmingly inappropriate and kind-hearted redneck lummox like Blake Shelton.

He makes up for being so distracted by neurotically working on songs for the next album, despite the fact that he has no clue when they’re gonna release it.

Really, Adam just needs something to work on; anything to take his mind off of Blake.

But his efforts are ultimately in vain, seeing that his problem has gotten a little worse than before, especially after he’s seen Blake and Miranda perform together.

There was just _something_ about that performance.

Something that rubbed Adam the wrong way.

He’s not really quite sure exactly _what_ , though. 

_Yeah,_ he gets that understandably, as an Oklahoma native, Blake would be upset about that fucking disastrous tornado that ripped through the state without any warning.

But that haunted look in his eyes, that look of pure and utter sorrow was _so alien_ -nothing like the Blake Shelton Adam is accustomed to. 

It tugged at his heartstrings; made Adam want to do something, _anything_ to make Blake turn back into that loud, dumb, happy hick that barely walks straight and makes inappropriate jokes all the time and is basically an all-around menace to society.

It's slowly driving him insane.

Adam can’t sleep.

He drowns in dreams of smiling blue eyes and solid warmth and rowdy laughter…but that’s really all Blake, isn’t it.

Adam doesn’t dwell too long to think about it because it’s driving him up the wall.

Truthfully, he’s a nervous wreck, but he’s trying his best not to let it show.

He can’t explain why Blake is affecting him to such an extent.

The giant of a man just does without any effort, unapologetically barreling his way through Adam’s carefully constructed walls of painstakingly nurtured ego and charisma.

And because of his restless thoughts, Adam has spent another mostly sleepless night tossing and turning on his bed because everything’s pretty much gone to hell.

\----- 

The morning daylight streaming lines across his pillow heralds the rise of the sun.

Damn, it’s already morning, and he’s barely slept a wink.

All Adam has done is watch the peaceful midnight sky slowly shift to bright sunrise.

He is so screwed and still _very, very tired_.

In his groggy resignation, his phone rings.

_Speak of the devil, it’s Blake._

Adam sucks in a breath and answers the damn phone.

“Heya, Adam,” a familiar southern drawl calls out, “I know you said you couldn’t sing with me, but maybe you can just come and-”

“I can’t make it. Sorry, bro,” states Adam curtly into the phone, effectively cutting Blake off before the poor guy can even finish his sentence.

It’s silent for a moment, and Adam can imagine Blake’s stupefied expression of hurt bewilderment.

Neither of them says anything else, but Blake finally breaks the silence, voice low and simply dripping with tangible disappointment.

“Oh. Okay, then. I’ll be seein’ you, buddy.”

“Seeya later, I guess,” Adam mutters, hanging up and feeling like the biggest coward. 

His heart is thudding painfully in his chest for an inexplicable reason.

And there’s a sinking feeling in Adam’s gut that tells him it isn’t due to his developing insomnia, but something _much worse_. 

What that something _is_ though, remains to be seen.

But hey, at least Blake has got Usher and a fuckton of other miscellaneous stars.

Why would he ever need Adam?

Adam goes about the rest of his day feeling like a huge douche.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love pining!Adam. I am so sorry, especially because I am warning you now, this is not going to end so happily. 
> 
> Please comment! I really would like to know what people think! :)
> 
> Also, the title is taken from Maroon 5's 'The Man Who Never Lied.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amber comes over to rehearse/meet the rest of Maroon 5. Adam has a shocking realization.

Nothing has changed.

Adam still feels like a huge douche.

But what’s done is done.

The concert is finished, and Blake probably didn’t even need Adam because Usher was there to help.

And at least Adam tweeted about it, which was probably the least he could have done in this case.

Still, the guilt is gnawing at his insides, making it hard for him to sleep even more, if that was even possible.

Adam can’t help but think of know he could practically feel the sadness and disappointment that Blake was trying to hide.

And _dammit_ , he’s fucking _honored_ that he was initially one of the first people Blake had asked, but now for some reason, Adam is petrified beyond belief at the thought of how much this means to Blake, and what it would mean if Adam attended.

He’s so damn tired of whatever _this_ is.

But he only has a few hours until morning, so he might as well try to sleep for at least a little while. 

His problem with Blake can perhaps be dealt with sometime later, but right now, Adam is gonna give his all to Amber.

_Fuck America._

\-----    

Hours later, the rehearsal goes off without a hitch.

Amber is adorable and earnest and works pretty damn hard and _yep_ ; Adam knows there’s a big smile on his face now.

It’s funny.

Earlier, she had expressed her doubts to him, telling Adam things like, ‘but Sarah and Judith were better than me,’ and ‘what am I supposed to do?’ 

_Honestly_ , it had broken his heart to hear that.

She obviously deserved to be here _-Adam would not have pushed his button for her in the first place, otherwise!_

Yeah, Sarah and Judith’s eliminations _sucked major balls_ , but Amber had talent, too! Maybe in a different way than the former two, but it was still so unique and special. 

Amber was a strong girl, regardless, only confessing all this to Adam out of earshot of everyone else to keep up a strong appearance. 

He vaguely recalls reaching for her hand and getting her to look up at him, telling her with a pained smile about the shit he’s dealt with. 

‘You think I had an easier time- _starting out_ -when I was your age? In the beginning, do you know how many times we were rejected? It sucks, Amber, I know, _believe me_ , I know how it feels _-never feeling good enough_ -but you know what? You just gotta rise above everything.’ _  
_

And something Adam said must have gotten through to Amber because there is no longer any trace of doubt in her, anymore.

Amber immediately came into the rehearsal room with a positive, committed mentality; ready to get started. _  
_

She was so excited to meet the rest of the guys- _even giving quick, but heartfelt hugs to those loveable idiots_ -and if that didn’t warm Adam’s heart, nothing would have.

He loves it when people reach out to the rest of the guys. 

A part of him always feels like a dick when they do not get nearly as recognized enough for their talents as they deserve to be, but at least with the focus on Adam, they aren’t the ones getting hounded by paparazzi for every little thing.

He loves them all like brothers, and another part of him wishes they can play music and stay together until the end of time and prank each other ‘til they’re all old and grey.

_That would be pretty freakin’ sweet. And maybe Blake-_

Adam is successfully jolted out of his thoughts when James waves an agitated hand in front of his face; everyone else clearly worried for him, shit.

He brushes it off and blames it on Mickey’s attractiveness.

Mickey, puzzled, trips on the nearby mic stand and lands on his precious little face. 

They all share a good laugh (at poor Mickey’s expense) and begin practicing.

They play ‘Sad,’ and while Mickey, Matt, and PJ focus on their instrumentals, Adam and James explain the meaning and depth behind the song to Amber.

Her voice is lovely, and Adam can feel the genuine grief in her rendition of their song.

It’s beautiful, and Adam can honestly say that he believes that Amber sang it better than he did.

When she’s finished for the day, they all part by hugging it out some more, and Adam watches Amber leave, her melodic voice still echoing in his head.

He’s lost in the moment while the guys screw around a little more on their instruments, genuinely touched by the purity of Amber’s voice, but his thoughts end up straying, yet again, to Blake Shelton.

The whole song reminds Adam of Blake- _who makes him feel so fucking conflicted_ -and all of the difficulties Adam is going through because he’s scared to death of Blake ever hating him.

And Adam doesn’t understand why, but he just-he _needs_ Blake.

He needs Blake, but it seems like they’re drifting apart day by day, and it’s all because Adam can’t get a grip on himself.

Should Adam have tried harder?

He is making himself miserable by avoiding Blake because the redneck bastard makes Adam feel things he shouldn’t.

Things that always end with Adam feeling the happiest he’s ever felt; happier than when he’s with his supermodels, when he’s trying so desperately hard to fall in love with them because despite everything he says, he doesn’t want to be alone. 

Blake makes Adam happy.

Blake makes Adam so happy _it hurts_ -

And that’s when it hits him.

It hits him _hard_.

_I’m in love with Blake._

_Fuck._

“Adam!” James shouts abruptly, out of nowhere.

“ _Christ, man_. He’s shaking like a leaf,” Adam hears Mickey croak out. 

“ _Holy shit. No. No way. Fuck_ -” Adam struggles to get out, his throat as dry as a desert; gasping in sheer, excruciating pain.

He can’t breathe, he’s trying so hard, but it _hurts_ like a bitch.

Adam sinks further down to the floor, shaking without any sign of stopping.

He hears the harsh screech of guitar strings as guitars are dropped unceremoniously on the ground.

Blearily, he thinks it’s a good thing that the drum set is too big for Matt to join in and also slam on the unforgiving floor because _apparently_ , Maroon 5 is into that sort of thing. 

But soon the collective voices of the rest of Maroon 5 bring him back out of his pain-induced reveries.

“Adam, stay with us, _relax_ ,” James calmly says, supporting Adam’s weight.

“Take deep breaths, man. We have you. You’re good,” says PJ, lightly rubbing his back.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Matt asks, running to where he dropped his phone from earlier. 

Those are the magic words.

“ _No!_ Just, _please_ , no ambulance,” Adam pleads, finally calming down enough to speak.

_“But Adam-”_ interjects James.

“I’m fine. I’m fine now.”

Adam inhales.

Exhales. 

“Not gonna pass out-”

“…Don’t make me call Jesse,” threatens Mickey, that asshole.

_Shit. Jesse would kill him._

“Stop,” Adam grinds out, “that’s completely unnecessary.”

Wordlessly, they observe him with noted unease.

Adam glares back, _rebellious_ , even though he understands their concerns.

In the end, Adam’s rigid insistence wins out and they pack up and help him back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posted it because it seems like it might not be showing up??  
> Next chapter contains an intense confrontation between Adam and Blake.
> 
> Also, for those worried about the (sad) ending, I may make a happier sequel depending on how Season 5 goes. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam is confronted by Carson and the other coaches. Blake snaps.

It’s the day of reckoning; at least, _it is_ especially for Adam.

Deep in his bones, Adam knows that despite Blake texting him back, there is some awkward tension between the two of them since he missed the concert.

The concrete proof of that is the fact that Blake doesn’t come to Adam when he sees him arrive backstage, but opts for sticking to Usher.

Adam waves, but Blake just nods stiffly at him, turning back to continue whatever conversation he was having with Usher.

And that’s just plain wrong.

Blake’s supposed to hug him, and Adam‘s supposed to squirm out of his arms; pretending he doesn’t like it.

Even though Blake’s warm, cheerful hugs mean the world to him.

Adam has to convince himself that the sight of Blake getting along so well with someone who isn’t him doesn’t sting as much as it does.

But whatever they’re talking about must be serious because Blake’s eyes are fixed upon Usher, who is nodding in quiet agreement every few seconds.

_Agreement of what, though?_

They blatantly glance back at Adam for a while, and _just_ _what the hell is that supposed to mean_?

But Adam is jolted out of his thoughts when he hears his name being called out several times.

It’s Carson, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, who is swiftly sliding his phone back into his pocket. 

“Hey, Adam. You got a minute?” Carson Daly inquires again, patiently, striding up to him with what looks like great purpose and determination.

“Oh, hey. ‘Sup Carson?” mutters Adam distractedly while pretending to fiddle with the leather straps of his watch.

He looks up when Carson stays silent, not saying a single word.

Carson looks like there’s something on his mind.

The guy looks like he’s curious, but mostly worried.

After what seems like a tense minute or two, Carson speaks after a steady silence.

“Is it true that a few days ago, you had a pretty serious panic attack during your rehearsal after Amber left?”

Through his peripheral vision Adam can see the newly-arrived Shakira, Usher, not to mention _Blake_ , noticeably turn to stare incredulously at both him and Carson.

_Shit._

He tries to gather some sort of excuse, but nothing’s coming to his mind at the moment, no matter how hard Adam racks his brain.

However, Carson, and everyone else for that matter, is still gazing at him expectantly.

He can tell even though his eyes are trained on the floor, looking anywhere _but especially not at Blake_.

Honestly, Adam feels sick; dread rising in his stomach.

He bites his lip, but finally musters enough in him to at least say _something_.

“Who told you?” he questions, far too quietly, _too seriously, fuck_.

Adam should have passed that off as a joke or something.

Say it was because of hangover, though Blake would have probably believed that and be even more disappointed in Adam for missing the Oklahoma concert.

“James did. He called a few minutes ago,” states Carson, bringing him out of his nervous musings.

Adam chuckles desperately and very awkwardly, in a valiant effort to diffuse the situation.

It doesn’t work at all.

Although he’s pointedly ignoring the expressions of the other coaches, Carson Daly is nevertheless watching him attentively with visible concern.

“ _I’m gonna stab him_ ,” Adam ultimately mutters, though he realizes too late that there was more hostility in his tone than what he wanted to jokingly convey.

Or perhaps he really wasn’t joking after all.

And just plain _why_ did James have Carson’s number in the first place?

Before he can speculate further, Carson interrupts Adam’s suspicious thoughts.

“You have to listen to me, Adam. James sounded really worried. He was telling me for a good long while, it looked like you wouldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t even hold yourself up, and it looked like you weren’t even _breathing_ for a couple of seconds!”

Damn it, Adam really didn’t mean to scare the others like that.

But at that moment, he accidentally turns his face enough to see the other coaches from the corner of his eye.

Shakira has her eyes wide; hands clasped to her heart, watching the scene unfold.

Usher’s arms are tensely crossed on his chest, and after he peeks at Adam, he turns back to Blake, perhaps gauging the country singer’s reaction.  

And lastly, Blake looks like the perfect cross between shocked and petrified; that huge body completely stiff, blue eyes completely transfixed on Adam, mouth agape.

_Fuck._

Adam is resolute in avoiding Blake even more, if that were even possible.

“You know, James told me that recently, these past few weeks, you’ve been burying yourself in your work. The rest of your band, Adam, is really concerned, and James asked me if I could keep an eye on you tonight,” reports Carson, who was apparently still talking to him, unaware of Adam’s brief lapse of attention.

“ _Listen_ , Carson, they’re just _overreacting_ ; mother-henning it, if you will. _We’re a band!_ It’s only natural for them to blow things like this out of proportion! _I’m perfectly fine-now!”_ Adam scoffs in disbelief, throwing his hands up in exaggerated impatience.

“If something happens during the show, you have my permission to rub it in my face!” Adam continues, sneering irritably and feeling his face contort into what is probably a really weird, nasty expression, if Carson’s alarmed face is of any indication.

“Hey, maybe if I _actually_ pass out on national television, our ratings might go through the roof! That’d be pretty sweet,” grins Adam crookedly, silently begging Carson to _please_ drop the issue.

Carson doesn't even come close to dropping the issue.

 _“Adam, this isn’t a joke!”_ Carson scolds angrily, making Adam wince.

Now he feels like a kid being reprimanded by his dad or something.

Carson has more to say, though.

“James was right. You’re avoiding the subject so blatantly it’s almost insulting,” he sighs in clear exasperation.

Adam rolls his eyes at that because _of course_ , James told Carson all about how stupid Adam has been acting these past couple of hours.

But too late he notices that maybe Carson interpreted that wrong because he’s now giving Adam a full-on death-glare.

“ _Eep_ ,” squeaks Adam and _wow_ , did that really have to come out of his mouth right now?

Ugh, and the rest of his fellow coaches are still watching their fucked-up conversation.

But he should at least try to salvage what is left of some of his pride as a man; starting by making Carson less pissed at him.

“Uhhh…. _dude, don’t be mad_! I wasn’t rolling my eyes at you! I was rolling them at James, alright? But maybe I should have rolled my eyes at him…in my mind? _Sorry!_ ” Adam frantically spazzes.  

Carson huffs.

Then proceeds to huff some more.

“ _OK_ , but you do know that James is only telling me all this because he and the others really care about you, _right_?”

Carson slightly tilts his head, waiting for a response.

“Yes. Yeah. Absolutely,” sputters Adam, like a complete idiot.

Carson simply gives Adam a doubtful frown.

Adam sighs in tired resignation before making his move.

“ _Look_ , just let me get past tonight. _I swear_ I’ll take it easy after the show is over. Deal?” Adam grins nervously at Carson, holding his hand out.

Carson looks at him dispassionately, and for a second, Adam is afraid Carson is going to send him home without even seeing Amber, but he grabs Adam’s hand in a firm handshake.

“See? Was that so bad?” Adam teases because he’s happy that _at least_ he and Carson are still cool.

“Funny, didn’t think I’d need to strike a deal with someone to make him watch out for his own health,” dryly smirks Carson, _that sassy son of a bitch_.

He pretends to miss seeing Adam give him the finger, but gives Adam’s shoulder a good squeeze before exiting backstage and heading out.

The whole room is silent, though the rock star can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. 

“ _Motherfucker_ ,” groans out Adam, plopping down on one of the comfy couches and covering his eyes with his hands, wishing he were dead to the world.

\-----

He distinctly hears the click of heels slowly approaching him in the suffocating quiet.

 _“Adam,”_ he hears after a few seconds.

He looks up, wearily resting his hands on his lap, and _lo and behold_ ; it’s the beautiful, lovable _Shakira_.

“Is all that true?” she asks gently, but wasting no time, eyebrows quirked in an anxious manner.

“I guess. Yeah,” he grins ruefully back, but can’t help but look down again after seeing her uneasy expression.

“Adam, _querido_ , look at me,” croons Shakira, lightly bringing her thumb underneath Adam’s chin and tilting his head up.

“Won’t your giant soccer player boyfriend kick my ass if you call me that?” He can’t help but to inquire, _like an ass_.

Still, Adam doesn’t resist her, and he’s looking straight at her now; her soft fingers cupping his chin.

“No, silly. _I_ _know_ that _you know_ I’m not flirting with you! Don’t try to avoid me!” Shakira utters lightheartedly, bringing him in close for a hug.

_Shakira’s hugs are nice, but not as nice as Bla-_

Adam really needs to stop relating every single thing to that redneck bastard, who is currently heading closer and closer, with an abnormally distressed Usher in tow.

Weird.

Shakira is still hugging him, back turned to the other coaches, so she doesn’t see Usher’s pitiful attempts to block Blake’s way. 

The pair arrives close enough so that Adam starts to hear what Usher is nervously murmuring to Blake while futilely trying to keep in front of the giant, determined country singer.

“C’mon, man. Don’t do it,” advises Usher, now left only with the choice of grabbing at Blake’s shirt.

But Blake doesn’t stop moving.

Luckily, Usher has enough common sense to let go before he goes careening into Adam and Shakira.

Blake stops right in front of Adam, who is now partially shielded by Shakira, still holding him in a tight embrace.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Blake blankly asks, barely looking at Adam, but staring more towards the back of Shakira’s golden head.

Like he can’t stand even _looking_ at Adam.

_Oh God._

Not now.

“B-Blake,” stammers Adam, because at this point, that is the only thing he is capable of doing.

The slight hitch in his voice gets Blake to finally look at him, but maybe that necessarily wasn’t a good thing.

“If you weren’t feeling up to it, you should have told me! Do you know how much of a _jackass_ I feel like now?” Blake snaps furiously, which in turn, causes Shakira to pull out of the hug to look back at the irate country singer.

However Blake only has eyes for Adam, and Usher and Shakira are left helplessly looking back at each other, mouthing words and making frantic gestures.

Blake chooses to ignore all of that, and refocuses on Adam, who is frozen in shock.

“While I was _feeling sorry for myself_ , wishing you could have come, you were scaring the crap out of your own band mates by _damn near collapsing_!” Blake exhales harshly, noisily, sounding in pain.

 _“Why aren’t you taking better care of yerself?”_ Blake shouts heatedly, blue blazing eyes piercing Adam with their frightening intensity.

“Stop yelling at him! That’s not helping!” Shakira suddenly screams back, now facing Adam and pressing him closer to her chest, and _yes, hello sweet rack_.  

From Adam’s vantage point, he sees Usher cringing in the background, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Adam feels him, he really does.

Though he doesn’t get a long enough time to empathize with Usher.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” eventually scowls out Blake, “but Adam,” he continues, “this isn’t over.”

Blake stares at Adam for a pointed minute before turning away, to the apparent relief of the remaining three occupants of the room.

They start walking over together, awkwardness pervading the already uneasy atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the part from 'untitled,' with some slight revisions. 
> 
> Please comment so I know this is showing up!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is some angry, heartfelt manhandling. Blake confronts Adam.

For once in these past few weeks, everything is going pretty well.

Blake jokes around with Adam like nothing’s wrong, Adam responds accordingly, and Amber sings her pretty little heart out.

With all things considered, this was a great day.

He feels content until reality sets in, and he remembers Blake actually wants to finish chewing out Adam about the fact that he nearly passed out due to the realization that he’s in love with Blake, though the big guy really doesn’t need to know that last part.

Thoughts of his impending doom flutter in Adam’s brain, but he wills himself to at least attempt to walk back with Blake and honor his wishes.

However, Blake is still way over there, near the big red chairs, talking to Carson and the other coaches.

The only reason Adam isn’t over there with them is because he is pointedly not going to speed up his imminent heart-to-heart with Blake if he sure as hell has any say in this matter.

Still, Adam awkwardly loiters around, waiting for Blake to notice him despite his frantic nerves, although, Adam finds himself rushing out as soon as he sees Blake finally about to turn in his direction.

He more or less _sprints_ to his trailer, heart beating furiously out of his chest with each panicked step.

Adam slams the door open, then closed, collapsing into the nearest chair in complete and utter exhaustion.

\-----

A few minutes pass as he catches his breath, and he’s finally calmed down, but a loud barrage of knocks against the door makes him jump in his seat.

“Adam, you alright in there?” Blake hollers from behind the door. “I’m coming in!”

The door opens, creaking ominously as the _last person_ Adam wanted to see, _right now_ , enters the room.

Blake looks visibly anxious; worry etched onto his features as he takes in the view of the normally charming and impish Adam Levine slumped on a chair looking troublingly somber and worn down.

Adam chances a cursory glance at his phone on the nearby table, in an effort to maintain an indifferent façade, despite the unrelenting chills running down his spine. 

“Adam-”

“Shut the door,” Adam murmurs softly, without looking up.

Blake pauses, looking awkward, dwarfing the entire space with his huge body.

He then turns to shut the door, and how the gigantic hick manages to do so with such _resolve_ is something that eludes Adam’s comprehension.

The next thing Adam knows is that Blake is crowding him against the chair, arms braced on either side of him, and leaning into Adam’s personal space.

“Tell me the truth. Are you feelin’ alright?” the oblivious bastard has the nerve to inquire, looking down at Adam with such heartfelt sincerity that it makes him want to puke.

Adam simply nods in response, though he admittedly does so unconvincingly.

It makes sense that Blake doesn’t buy it.

Adam knows because Blake hasn’t budged one bit, _the fucker_.

Swallowing thickly, Adam looks down at the floor, feeling so utterly helpless and so fucking exposed, and it’s probably showing on his face.

Above him, Blake makes a wounded noise.

“Adam, look at me-” he pleads gingerly, making a move to grab at Adam’s wrist.

But Adam harshly slaps Blake’s hand away, the sound of the stinging impact ringing in Adam’s eardrums.

“ _I’m fucking fine, dickhead_ ,” uncharacteristically deadpans Adam with a voice full of malice, that it momentarily surprises himself as much as it surprises Blake, or at least, if Blake’s stunned, slack jawed look is of any indication.

Blake, impressively enough, still manages to make a swift recovery, though.

“ _Bullcrap_ ,” he booms, voice now even deeper and more gravelly, exasperatingly stuttering out, “You-you’re- _you’re not even looking me in the eye!_ ”

And that’s true.

So very true.

Adam can’t bear looking into Blake’s rich blue eyes because looking into them will be Adam’s undoing; his self-made destruction.

He opens his mouth a few times, in an effort to defend or explain himself, but nothing comes out.

Adam has nothing to say to possibly refute Blake, so he compensates by looking farther away from the country bastard’s stupid, handsome, caring face until he’s looking down at the ground, yet again.

Blake lays a heavy, reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder, perhaps in both a gesture of grabbing Adam’s attention and one of comfort because he is the best friend (besides the rest of Maroon 5 and Gene Hong) that Adam Levine will ever be fortunate enough to have. 

But that makes Adam angrier with himself; guiltier, _even more disgusted,_ if it were even possible because he is fucking lusting and pining for a _married man, his best friend_ , who only is looking out for Adam because he is innocently caring about Adam’s well being because they are, in fact, _best friends_.

And Adam has no idea how stupid he looks right now; what kind of expression his face is making to make Blake watch him so intently with undisguised concern and sincerity.

He feels himself baring his teeth: seeing red at the world that took such a wonderful man like Blake Tollison Shelton away from him before Adam ever really had a chance.

Fury consumes his insides until the sheer pain of the hopelessness of his situation wracks his body to its very core.

Adam tries to brusquely shrug Blake’s gigantic hand off of his shoulder, but the country singer doesn’t seem like he’ll be having any of that, and retaliates by grabbing Adam by the front of his collar, effectively lifting Adam from his seat, and bringing the rock star to about his eye level.

_Oh shit._

“Listen, ya _little jackass_ , look me in the _fucking eye_ and tell me there’s nothing wrong with you,” the gigantic redneck bastard even has the nerve to growl, reeling Adam in closer.

_Kind of like those helpless fish Blake so loves to catch. Does that make Blake a wild bear or something?_

Adam can’t help but at snicker at this ridiculous comparison, though he realizes it was inappropriate and really dumb to do so at that exact moment, when Blake reacts by making a deep, frustrated sound and shoving his skinny ass rock star self _hard_ against the wall, pinning Adam’s wrists in a vice grip.

_Note to self: never provoke a 6’5” country singer._

_It will most likely not end favorably for you._

But dear God, he loved it when Blake manhandled him.

It was pretty fucking hot.

But wow, Blake looks legitimately pissed off, so Adam better shut the fuck up right now.

He can’t help but let his mind wander (ADHD does that to you. _Sometimes_.) to his high school experience, being shoved up against cold, metal, unforgiving lockers by huge, dumb, sweaty jocks simply for being a music nerd.

Or maybe for just existing, in general.

_High school really blowed._

That was also when Adam found out he was bi, _but well, no one needs to know that_.

_And shit. Hopefully that doesn’t make him some sort of masochist._

When Blake makes a move to raise his hand, Adam subconsciously flinches back, and _damn_ , was that a _stupid move_ because instead of Blake looking pissed off, the large man somehow manages to look like he accidentally kicked a puppy.

But, _hey_ , apparently Adam is just full of stupid moves, these days.

_Fucking shitty media sharks._

He was angry at the fucking results! Could anyone really blame him, at that point?

_Judith and Sarah deserved to fucking stay because those two gorgeous ladies were awesome people, talented, and worked hard as fuck…though not to say the other contestants weren’t the same._

But it really wasn’t the time for any one of them to leave.

_Not yet._

He hates that he is forced to keep dwelling on all of this meaningless media drivel, in addition to all this useless emotional bullshit that is basically leading him down a path of _absolute nowhere_.

“Adam, _buddy_ ,” Blake gently murmurs, his soothing southern drawl bringing the rocker’s attention back to the present. “I-I’d never _really_ kick your ass no matter how much I say I will!"

Adam is silent because the intense, pleading look in Blake’s bright blue eyes is doing things to his brain.

Or maybe it was to _his dick_ …Adam was never good at differentiating between the two.

“Or even if you really deserve it,” Blake sheepishly decides to add, one Sasquatch hand still dwarfing Adam’s hands and trapping Adam’s bony wrists against the wall, while the other awkwardly shifts through the country singer’s hair.

“ _Blake, I-”_ Ironically Adam tries to find the words, but he can’t.

How the actual fuck did he even survive this long by writing songs?

“C’mon, little buddy,” Blake smiles disarmingly at him, “ _I want to help you as much as I can_ , _Adam_.”

Shit, the way Blake mumbles his name is short of short-circuiting Adam’s brain.

Or dick.

“Stop being a pain in the ass, and _tell me what’s been eating you up_?”

Blake, he, just looks so earnest, _and fuck_ , no person should be capable of being so overwhelmingly genuine because most people are generally inclined to be _douchebags._

_…All except for the guys, though._

_Especially James.  
_

_And PJ._

_Jesse, too, wherever he currently was, being his loveable hippy self._

_Fuck, every past/present member of Maroon 5 wasn’t a total douchebag, excluding his own charismatically cocky self._

At least Adam acknowledges his cockiness.

_Hell, he fucking embraced it!_

Blake, though, is staring at him now, confusion making him look even dumber than usual, but now it’s turning to amusement? Mirth?

What. _The fuck._

Silence.

Really awkward silence.

Blake unsurprisingly breaks it by coughing, but sounds more like he’s trying in vain to cover what appears to be quite a few chuckles up to soothe Adam’s already bruised ego.

_Dick._

“…You know….you’re sayin’ all that shit out loud, right now, right? And what’s that about me ‘ _looking dumber than usual_?’ And being a ‘ _dick_?’”

_Oh, fuck me._

“…And you just said that part out loud, too,” chokes out Blake, turning red. 

Adam can only gape at Blake in silent horror because _really_ , this shit had to happen to him _now_ , of all times?

“Maybe later,” cheerily then adds Blake, after finally collecting himself, wiping away tears of laughter.

“To what-” Then it hits him.

Embarrassment.

Complete humiliation.

_His imminent death by mortification._

Blake leers before dissolving into a fit of unadulterated laughter, with all of his obnoxiously endearing guffaws and that thunderous clapping he does when he finds something particularly funny.

Adam really has no words for what is happening to his life right now.

_‘Like a tragedy, like a dark comedy,’ in the exact words of “The Man Who Never Lied?”_

That was eerily accurate and downright scary, in Adam’s humble opinion.

“All jokes aside, I’m really worried about you.”  Blake seemingly snaps out of it, drawl becoming more subdued before escalating in volume, southern charm levels rising to unbelievable heights.

_“Heck, everyone is worried because we all care about you, man_! _And you’re too dumb to see it!_ _Goshdarnit!”_

_I am so fucked_ , Adam thinks, succeeding this time, to his complete and utter relief, to finally keep his thoughts to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically my 'untitled' one-shot with some modifications.
> 
> Next chapter, Adam doesn't keep his promise aka shit happens.
> 
> Comments? :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's body finally betrays him and he finally collapses.

Adam knows he promised Carson he’d take it easy, but it really is easier said than done.

It’s really difficult, though, because without Gene here at home with him, Adam doesn’t have anyone to really keep him in check.

The guys all text frequently about his condition and make sure to call him, but it’s all too easy for Adam to neglect mentioning certain things so they don’t needlessly worry.

Like how the whole reason Adam is suddenly kinda fucked up is because _he’s fucking in love with Blake Shelton, goddamn it._

But anyway, it’s different, actually having someone here with him, to see how he is, as opposed to Mickey freaking out when Adam doesn’t answer a text after a minute or James showing up unannounced to randomly ‘check up’ on him, and all the other weird crap the rest of Maroon 5 loves doing to Adam.

He gets it, okay.

He really does.

They care, to the point of being a bunch of weirdoes ( _well_ , more so than usual), but they legitimately care about Adam.

But seriously, it’s not like Adam’s _not_ trying.

Adam knows that he has to at least make an attempt, if not for himself, then for the precious few people in his life who care for him and care about his welfare.

 _Yes_ , he’s been making more of an effort to take it easy.

 _Yes_ , he’s been eating well enough, practicing yoga, and sleeping earlier in the place of working on new songs…

But fundamentally, even without the defense of ADHD, Adam is not the type of person to sit still for long periods of times.

And regardless, any physical problems are entirely due to his messed up attraction to Blake.

Adam knows he would feel a whole lot better telling all of this to the guys, but he’s just so disappointed with himself, pining over a _married_ man…whose wife is probably as ‘country’ as the big lug and would most likely shoot Adam with a hunting rifle or something if she knew his thoughts.    

Additionally, his buzzing nerves about The Voice are also proving to be another huge, unwanted distraction.

And his buzzing nerves dictate he should go work on preparing Amber for the show.

Adam just wants to try to keep Amber in the competition as long as possible.

But the thing is, it’s not that easy, especially since America appears to be so _taken_ with basically all the members of Team Blake or maybe really just Blake, himself.

( _Adam would not blame them, one bit_.)

His head hurts from all this thinking, dammit.

He’s barely functioning, as is.

Adam comes to a stop, mentally calculating and weighing the pros and cons of his present state of mind and whether it would be better spent relaxing or working.

Annoyed at his uncertainty, Adam thinks _‘fuck it,’_ and drives off to the studio, hoping that perhaps he’ll be more focused there and get things done.

Also, if he’s there already, Adam has time to brood to himself in relative privacy without feeling so stir-crazy at home, and he and Amber can start working right away, as soon as she shows up, and it’ll totally be an awesome, but productive time.

Adam gets there without any paparazzi interference or whatever else, successfully parking his car near a certain someone’s truck and a certain someone’s motorcycle.

Obviously, he sees that Blake and Usher are already there, but he’s honestly not surprised.

Adam faintly remembers Shakira saying she and Sasha would arrive a bit later to rehearse due to some conflicting schedules.

And Adam was given the okay to come a bit later due to concerns of his health, but it’s not like anyone would know _how_ early he arrived. 

In the hallway, he hears Team Blake and Team Usher respectively working from the doors of their chosen studios.

Adam walks straight past, and quietly sneaks into his own room to get things ready for Amber.

He reads over some of the song lyrics they’ve already discussed via text, before feeling inexplicably drowsy, all of a sudden.

Little white spots dance in his vision, prompting Adam to lean uncomfortably into the nearby piano, momentarily regaining his balance.

But his body finally betrays him, as Adam falls back, landing sprawled out on the floor, completely blacking out.

\-----

His eyelids feel way too heavy, so he decides against opening them, for now.

Though he makes sure to peek at the clock hanging from the wall.

_Shit._

It’s been almost two whole hours.

It’s funny that Adam has to more or less _pass out_ to finally be unconscious for more than an hour straight.

It was time well spent, in his sluggish opinion.

He’s immobile, still laying on the floor, musing to himself silently when he hears…footsteps?

_The door opening?_

“Hey Adam, I came straight over here when I saw your car in the parking lot! And thanks a lot for that rehearsal again!”

That sounds a lot like Amber, Adam’s _precious baby Amber_ who he is going to make the winner of The Voice Season 4 because his other _precious babies Judith and Sarah_ were gone from the show.

He was definitely not joking when he was telling that reporter all that crap after those goddamn eliminations.

Though he definitely was not serious about hating America.

_People could be such idiots._

It’s stupid that even days after, people still have to talk about it.

But anyway, Amber’s lovely voice continues filling his ears.

“It was so nice meeting the whole band! The guys were so nice. And James is pretty funny! And thanks for offering to stay a bit later today so we can practice-

He hears something, like she’s carrying something and trying to close the door at the same time.

Then he hears the door creak closed.

“Adam?”

He then hears a startled gasp.

And whatever Amber was carrying falling to the ground.

Also, an ear-piercing scream.

_Wow. What a set of lungs._

Adam was pretty sure she had a good chance of winning Season 4 with vocal stamina like that.

Now, what other songs should they choose, regarding the possibility that America does not fuck up everything again like before for Team Adam…?

 _“What in tarnation?!”_ Adam vaguely hears from somewhere out of the room, not very far away.

Not long after, he hears a few people murmuring outside of their rehearsal room.

_But heh. Who was that? What a dork, though at least Amber isn’t screaming anymore-_

The door loudly clicks open in the sudden quiet.

“Amber?” Adam hears a familiar voice with a southern twang to it.

It sounds like the same guy from before, whoever he was.

The voice goes on, “Sweetheart, you okay? What’s with all this ruckus-”

_Wait, was that Blake?_

Amber starts sniffling for some reason?  _Poor thing._

But suddenly the loud, unsteady stomps of someone’s feet against the floor drown her out.

And end abruptly near where Adam’s feet are laying motionless on the floor.

“ _Adam_ ,” Blake thickly rasps from somewhere above him, sounding like someone sucker punched him in the gut.

Big, warm, strong hands grab at his shoulders.

“Adam, buddy, _please wake up_.”

He feels himself being shaken roughly by trembling fingers.

But despite that, Adam feels way too safe and content in Blake’s arms that he doesn’t want to move.

“T-this isn’t funny. _C‘mon now, wake up_ ,” pleads Blake, one of his large hands feverishly warm on Adam’s cheek, lightly brushing against some of his eyelashes.

_Oh. Wait, shit._

He needs to get up before there’s a commotion.

“Blakey, did you find out- _ohmygod_ , is he alright?” Shakira cries out promptly, but way too loudly; _bless her heart_ , bringing in the rest of their little audience into the room.

_Too late._

It gets really loud, really quickly, despite the fact that it’s now only a few of them; the coaches and their contestants, and Carson, who is currently taking charge of the situation.

“Step back a bit, guys! Give him some space.”

Adam groans.

Then curses quite a bit because he feels a lot worse than he originally thought he did.

He feels like shit.

And he probably doesn’t look much better.

“Looks like he’s coming around,” Usher chuckles in relief, somewhere to Adam’s immediate right.

Adam musters the energy to finally open his eyes to the sight of Blake, Shakira, Carson, and Usher all crouching down in front of him.

 _‘Blake’s eyes look bluer than usual from up close,’_ Adam observes absentmindedly to himself, probably looking stupid and confused as hell to the rest of them.

Michelle, Sasha, and Team Blake are all alternating between looking back at him and comforting Amber, who finally catches sight of Adam.

Her sniffling is dying down, and the Swon Brothers each take one of her hands and lead her to him, while Michelle, Sasha, and Danielle remain near the door.

_Freakin’ charming southern gentlemen. So fucking polite. So adorable I’m gonna puke.  
_

Without a word, Amber hugs him tightly, and _shit_ , now he feels really bad for not getting up sooner.

_But being in Blake’s arms was so nice and warm and-_

“Adam, Earth to Adam.”

“Carson?” Adam replies, mystified.

“Yeah, man,” Carson smiles, looking a mix of anxious and amused.

While Adam was busy zoning out, Amber let go of him, and Carson, plus the rest of the coaches and their contestants were all watching him attentively.

Wait. He needs to act surprised so they don’t get suspicious.

“Shit, what happened?” questions Adam, making a show of blearily rubbing at his eyes.

“I- ” Amber starts, then pauses, rubbing her tear-streaked face.

Everyone turns to look at her.

“I wanted to thank you for that rehearsal with the guys,” she smiles, eyes still somewhat puffy and red.

“And I was bringing some stuff here so we could work on our songs, but,” she hesitates, grasping her hands together tightly.

“When I looked down, you were on the floor.”

There is a brief period of time after Amber’s account, where people are merely watching Adam without saying a single word.

Carson, looking apologetically at Adam, decisively clears his throat.

Oh no, Adam knows exactly what he’s going to say.

“Adam-”

 _“Please don’t tell them,”_ Adam implores Carson Daly, voice cracking on the second word, _dammit._

“I have five days to unwind until the next actual show. I’ll get my shit together by then. Please don’t-” pretty much begs Adam Levine for his life, even going for the overkill by using his patented puppy-dog eyes.

The puppy-dog eyes do not fail him.

“Fine,” Carson relents, though he still crosses his arms.

“Thank you so fucking much, man,” chokes out Adam, with all his heart and gratitude.

“You know what kind of shit would have hit the roof? They would have called Jesse, Carson. _Jesse_ ,” stresses Adam as he more or less tackle-hugs Carson.

“Carmicheal? Your other keyboardist?” replies Carson, puzzled, as he simultaneously prevents them from falling on the floor while returning the hug.

“Yeeeeess. _God_ , he would have ripped me a new one! I mean, you wouldn’t know it now since he’s currently not playing us, but he’s my other best friend besides Blake!” answers Adam, without any real thought.

When Blake’s name leaves his mouth, Adam realizes that they’re still on slightly awkward terms with the whole _Blake-is-worried-for-Adam’s-health-and-Adam-is-in-love-with-Blake_ type thing.

 _Oh no_. He was trying so hard not to mention Blake, _fuck it_.

Opting to steer the conversation away from a certain Mr. Blake Shelton, Adam talks about his other fellow band mates.

“Though of course, I usually try not to say that out loud. James and Mickey get jealous.”

Adam ponders some more.

“Especially James, who really has sorta recently replaced Jesse as my best friend since Jesse’s not with us, now that I think about it,” he mumbles as he contentedly clings to Carson like a baby koala.

“Alright, alright,” voices Carson after a bit, slowly pulling out of the hug. “I won’t tell your boys.”

Adam breathes a huge sigh of relief.

“Yes!”

“But there’s one condition,” hurriedly utters Carson, interrupting Adam’s impromptu victory dance.

“Anything! You name it,” gushes Adam, not even caring so long as it gets him out of trouble.

_In retrospect that wasn’t very smart._

“I’m guessing your friend Gene is on the road or something, right?”

He doesn't let Adam answer.

“Otherwise, someone would have noticed _this_ by now. Someone’s gonna stay with you for a bit until you pull yourself out of whatever _…this_ is, got it?

Carson’s words echo unforgivingly in Adam’s skull.

Before Adam can vigorously interject, because _what the fuck_ , _he isn’t twelve_ ; Blake beats him to the punch.

“I’ll do it. I’ll stay with ‘im,” the big country singer’s drawl booms in the tense atmosphere of the room.

“What about going home to your-” Adam gapes, but gets cut off almost immediately by Blake.

“Ran’s going on tour soon with her girls in a few days. It don’t matter,” mutters Blake, sounding almost insulted by Adam’s quick objection.

Great, _that’s just_ -the object of his sick and twisted fantasies, is rooming with him for _two full weeks_.

'Kill me now,' Adam thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...For some reason I totally forgot about the mentors while writing this? Whoops. Sorry this took some time. I was a bit stuck fleshing things out/drawing Shevine doodles.
> 
> Comments? Please?
> 
> Next: Bonding time with Shakira and awkwardness with Blake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shakira accidentally sets Adam off, despite her good intentions. Blake finally moves in. And then shit happens.

_Well, damn._

Both he and Shakira are out, due to Amber and Sasha’s eliminations.

Honestly, Adam had expected the both of them to stay because they did so fucking well.

After his sudden, but fairly not all that unpredictable collapse, the show was able to go along pretty smoothly, all things considered.

All the contestants sang incredibly well and gave it their all.

Adam still considers himself an idiot for letting Sasha go, but at least because of his stupidity, Shakira was able to stay in the competition a little longer.

And his darling Amber was beyond amazing.

_Flawless, even._

‘Firework’ was beautiful, and he might have known ‘Sad’ would be even more so, but Amber still managed to blow him away with the sheer intensity and emotion of her performance.

 _Fuck_ , he stands by the fact that she really did sing it better than he ever had.

Adam even succeeds in laughing at Blake’s small dig at him when the lummox was praising Amber.

Adam is getting better and better at feigning his happiness.

And that _scares_ him a little.

Anyway, despite everything, it’s over.

 _Ugh_ , but at least Adam has Shakira to share in his misery.

Secretly, a malicious part of him wishes Usher and Michelle will wipe the floor with Team Blake.

Although Adam tries to convince himself that it’s the competition speaking, and not his bitterness towards Blake for unknowingly making Adam fall in love with him and causing Adam such agony.

He’s contemplating _what exactly the everloving fuck_ he’s gonna do about this whole _fucked up_ situation when a light knock on his trailer door interrupts his gloomy peace and quiet.

Adam is seriously praying that it isn’t Blake.

His frazzled nerves can barely handle being in the same room as the country singer, and _motherfuck_ to that because Blake is going to be moving in with him until the end of this season.

_Jesus Christ._

Everything is going so wrong for Adam that it isn’t even remotely funny any more.

Adam even forgot to lock the door, yet again; though luckily the universe decides, for once, to _not_ be a _straight-up dick_ to Adam.

It’s not Blake.

Shakira smiles sweetly at him, from the now open door.

She carefully steps in and closes it behind her, and then eventually locks it.

“I need to talk to you, Adam,” she states with gentle resolve, her lilting accent somehow calming him. “Is that okay?”

He discerns a sense of finality from Shakira; even if he refuses, she will probably _make_ him talk.

Seeing no way out, he gives in.

“Sure,” Adam nods once, anticipating yet another lengthy lecture from someone he cares about on how he should take care of himself more.

Sigh.

“This is all about Blake, isn’t it?”

He stares incredulously at her in horrified silence.

“W-what?” Adam finally forces himself to stutter.

“Please, Adam-”

“What exactly are you talking about?” he yelps, laughing in panicked disbelief.

She grasps his shoulders, gazing straight into his eyes.

“Adam, I’m serious,” Shakira looks at him in steely determination. “I think- _you_ _love Blake_ , yes?”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Adam, please-”

“Just _shut up_!” he snarls out, feeling far too _vulnerable_.

But the way Shakira manages to keep her hands on his shoulders, despite recoiling back with such a startled, _hurt_ expression makes him ultimately feel _so much worse_.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Adam finally sobs out, covering his hands with his face because he refuses to let anyone see him act _so damn_ _pitiful_.

 _Dammit_ , the tears he refused to shed this whole clusterfuck of the past two weeks are freely falling from his face, much to his chagrin.

Truthfully, he’s surprised he hadn’t broken down sooner.

At least he’s technically not _bawling_.

His tears are thankfully quite silent, though it hurts because he’s forcing himself to stifle his wracking sobs into his trembling hands.

He’s shaking with each hitched breath; each excruciatingly quiet, little, pained gasp.

In front of him, Adam hears Shakira let out a distressed little sound of alarm, before feeling warm, soft arms swiftly wrap around his neck.

He is too far-gone to hear what sweet nothings she murmurs into his ear, but he does catch some soothing, but unfamiliar words that sound like they are most likely in her native Spanish.

“Adam, you’re going to be okay, _cariño_ ,” croons Shakira, gently stroking his hair with petite fingers, after his tears have finally subsided.

And that’s the funniest thing about this.

Adam knows he’ll _never_ be okay, no matter how much he wants to _believe_.

He has always fancied himself to be a bit of a realist, though he knows that many would think that making a living off of being a musician was nothing but a pipe dream for starry-eyed dreamers.

Adam thinks those people should go to hell.

Music has always been a part of his life and he fucking loves every single aspect of it.

And he is not the type of person to take risks if he wasn’t confident in the payoff.

He likes being practical.

He likes being in control.

And loving Blake is the farthest thing from being practical or in control.

Blake may play all that ‘bromance’ crap up, but it is obvious by the way he looks at Miranda, that he is so very much in love with her that _it hurts_.

And also, whenever Adam is with Blake, he’s never in control.

Blake is an overwhelming presence that constantly and spontaneously breaks down all the barriers of everything Adam stands for.

Despite everything, he makes Adam so freakin’ happy.

And Adam can’t help but loving the big lug for it.

Much to his dismay.

\-----

“Thanks for everything,” he sniffs out, minutes later, pointedly _not_ looking at Shakira.

_Oh God._

_Jesus Christ._

Adam can’t believe he just. Cried. In. Front. Of. _Shakira._

There has to be a rule about _not ever doing that_ , _ever_ , or something.

His pride as a man is undoubtedly down to an all time low.

A few seconds later, she passes him his jacket and some…sunglasses?

“You left them on your chair once, and I kept forgetting to give them back to you,” explains Shakira, basically reading his mind. “Thought you might need them to um-”

She gestures to his swollen, red eyes.

Adam groans, but puts them on without further ado.

They reach the door to finally leave, _and lo and behold; the universe decides to be a straight-up dick to Adam Levine, after all, because there’s Blake Shelton, right in front of them_.

Carrying a large suitcase and other miscellaneous things, though in his large-ass hands, all of those things look like toys, _holy fuck_.

_And also, fuck_ , Adam forgot all about Blake rooming with him.

“What are you two doin’ together?” the giant asks, puzzled.

“We were just comforting each other on our respective losses, Big Country,” easily shoots out Adam, smoothly covering his tracks for once, finishing it off with a good pout; hoping that even with sunglasses obscuring his eyes, the effect is not lost.

Shakira, that intelligent, gorgeous woman; quick on the uptake, nods then pouts along with Adam, staring up at Blake with big, round eyes.

Faced with the collective forces of Adam and Shakira, Blake bursts out howling, clapping a massive hand to his face, and effectively dropping some of his luggage.

Adam rolls his eyes, picks it up and heads to his car, but not before waving goodbye to Shakira.

She looks sadly from him and Blake, who is still chuckling as he approaches the car; but blows Adam a kiss with a saddened, but kindly expression.

Blake climbs into the passenger seat, after shoving down the rest of his stuff with little or no skill or finesse, _the Neanderthal_.

Screaming internally, Adam starts driving off in the direction of his house, and there’s no way he can get out of this, is there.

Luckily for Adam, they manage to slip into a combination of easy banter and comfortable silence, all the way there, in spite of any prior misgivings Adam had entertained before.

With a terrible sense of foreboding, Adam parks the car and he and Blake heave all of Blake’s luggage in through the door.

They’re finally in the living room.

“Well,” mumbles Adam, self-consciously. “I’d tell you where everything was, but you sorta already know, so…”

“Damn straight, I do!” Blake exclaims, ruffling Adam’s hair, and chortling when Adam glares _bloody murder_ at him.

Adam huffs in resignation, but helps Blake bring his stuff up to one of the many guest rooms.

They spend the next hour or two screwing around (mostly on Blake’s part) and setting up Blake’s stuff and other miscellaneous redneck paraphernalia.

“Jus’ leave it,” Blake slurs, after being a lazy good-for-nothing and grabbing the last bottle of whiskey from Adam’s fridge.

_Well fuck_ , if Blake’s here, Adam _sure as hell_ needs to stock up on alcohol and other stuff, especially like a _shit-ton of Bacardi and Crystal Light_ for Blake, _gross._

Perhaps he’ll go buy some of the shit they need tomorrow before the Sasquatch wakes up and insists on going with Adam, which would most likely end up somewhat disastrously.

It’d be like what he was telling Chelsea Handler, that one time.

_Blake would be like Crocodile Dundee, terribly displaced wherever he is, and Adam would have to drag him back home without bringing the paparazzi’s attention on them, and there is no way this could potentially end well because Blake is a giant country singer and he’d be so fucking easy to spot…all 6’5” of him…_

“Hey, ya listen’ to me?” inquires Blake, lying next to where Adam’s folding Blake’s enormous socks, lightly smacking at Adam’s face, drunkenly, almost dislodging Adam’s sunglasses from his face.

He’s still wearing them because his eyes are still swollen as fuck, but that’s something Blake does not need to know.

Adam indignantly pries off Blake’s hands, hoping Blake mistakes Adam’s mood as being simply annoyed, rather than flustered.

_“Buddy,”_ grumps Adam good-naturedly, quirking his eyebrows up at Blake. “I’m trying to be a good host, so if you’re too busy being a drunk bastard to _help_ me, _kindly sit your ass back down and shut the fuck up_.”

He proceeds to calmly grab and fold another huge sock when Blake playfully and clumsily tackles him to the ground, chortling into Adam’s ears.

He shuts his eyes as they hit the floor because _really Blake, really?_

Blake then sees fit to roll them over, placing Adam on top of his hulking body.

Adam is about to start yelling, but realizes that Blake isn’t drunkenly moving any more, under him, or very much at all, in fact.

Cautiously, Adam opens his eyes and is _not_ met by the dark lenses of _his sunglasses_ , _fuck_.

Instead, he’s met with Blake’s face, inches from his own, looking up at him with a dazed, indiscernible expression.

The sunglasses are lying near the edge of the open door, somehow landing there in the pair’s mock scuffle.

Adam nervously looks away to the side, but is stopped when one of Blake’s big fingers prod tentatively around Adam’s eyes, gently angling Adam back down to face Blake.

Swallowing, Adam tries to concentrate on the cloying smell of alcohol sticking to Blake, _anything_ to distract him from Blake’s questioning eyes anxiously perusing his face.

After a good long while, Blake speaks.

“You-w-what’s wrong…with yer eyes?” he mumbles, cocking his head to the side in blank bewilderment.

Adam is frozen, heart pounding relentlessly against his chest, and he’s pretty sure that no matter _how_ drunk Blake is, he can definitely _feel_ _it_ with Adam’s scrawnier body pressing down on his.

Blake carefully lowers Adam down closer to him  (if that was even remotely more possible) by seizing Adams’s arms, staring straight at Adam with curiosity, growing concern, and then, distraught _realization._

“They’re so swollen an’ red… You okay?” Blake rasps, drawl progressively getting rougher due to worry.

When Adam doesn’t answer, Blake cups Adam’s chin with shaking fingers, as if Blake was afraid of Adam breaking in his very hands.

“Adam? Why were ya…cryin’?”

And then, the worst possible thing happens.

Adam feels tears prickling in the backs of his already stinging eyes.

_Fuck._

Blake loosens his grip on Adam, looking abjectly horrified at the stray tears dripping sluggishly down Adam’s shocked face.

In the confusion of the moment, Adam succeeds in extricating himself from Blake’s arms, scrambling for his sunglasses, and desperately making a mad dash through the door.

He slams his bedroom door shut, locking and bracing himself against it; heart hammering wildly against his chest, and feeling sick to his stomach.

A few minutes pass and he slides down the door and curls up into himself, shaking the rest of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Wow...I did not see any of that turning out that way...though I would be lying if I said this isn't better than what I originally had planned. THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER.
> 
> Next: A BIG fight and "making up" (sadly not "making out").
> 
> Please comment!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam wakes up and remembers everything. Shit happens and then some.

The following morning, Adam feels like complete and utter _shit._

He fell asleep rather uncomfortably against his locked bedroom door; right where he had his intense, but brief freak out over something he currently can’t be bothered to give a flying fuck about and _remember_.

His back is stiff and aching, and his head is throbbing, almost as if someone had used him as a human drum set.

_Heh._ _Drums…are motherfucking awesome._

Adam wordlessly stares at the ceiling for a few minutes, before looking down at the floor to see a familiar pair of sunglasses that he’d been looking for, that have been missing for at least a good week.

But instead of feeling relief at finally finding them, for some reason, he instinctively feels- _terror_ clawing at his insides.

_Just what exactly is so terrifying about these sunglasses?_

Maybe if he keeps on thinking about last night, it will all come back to him?

So, Shakira.

Was talking to him.

And they were talking and he was _crying, fuck,_ and-

_Sunglasses._

Adam stares at them, suddenly in his hands.

Somehow, he had grasped them without really even noticing.

Adam stares suspiciously into the dark glass of the lenses like it could reveal its secrets if only someone was able to look distrustfully at it for long enough.

_And fuck,_ eventually it all comes crashing back down to him.

The sickeningly strong smell of alcohol.

Endearingly loud and obnoxious laughter.

Someone touching him with large, but _gentle_ fingers.

Scared blue eyes, struggling to focus on Adam fleeing for his life.

And then Adam realizes.

_Blake_ -

_Blake saw._

A wave of sudden and overwhelming nausea overtakes Adam, sending him careening back into the hard, unforgiving wood of his bedroom door.

A rather loud _“Jesus fuck!”_ is violently ripped from his mouth in the process.

Adam claps his hands over his mouth as soon as the harsh words leave his lips.

_Crapcrapcrapcrap. That better have not woken up Blake._

With his head still spinning, Adam tiptoes through the too silent hall of his house.

Adam then sneaks into the room where he more or less _ran the fuck away_ from Blake, hoping _to dear god_ , that the big lug is still out cold where Adam left him.

And Blake?

Well, he is fortunately out cold; massive body spread out haphazardly on the floor, eyes closed and mouth open, lightly snoring.

‘Such an idiot,’ Adam fondly thinks, and the warm surge of affection slowly creeping into his fear and insecurities almost makes him want to believe that he isn't wrong to feel this way.

Adam could almost laugh at himself for being such a fool.

He steps a bit closer, to get a closer look at Blake’s lax, ruggedly handsome features.

Adam stifles a chuckle behind a hand when he finally notices.

Blake’s normally slicked back hair is now in curly, coffee-colored ruins on top of his head; a total mess.

The country singer’s hair is sticking out in every single direction.

Adam resists the urge to try to fix it because the off chance that Blake could potentially wake up and-

Yeah, that would be several kinds of _bad_.

He steps out of the guest room, quietly closing the door on his way out.

Adam smiles to himself, to compensate for the fact that there is absolutely nothing he can really do about this fucked up situation.

Then, reality hits him.

If Adam is to make this whole thing work, he needs to plaster on his fake smile, and pretend he did not colossally screw everything all up for himself and everyone else.

He can do it; he’s confident enough.

Adam has had them all fooled for the longest time; _he’s fine_.

He’s even fooled himself from the very first moment he laid eyes on Blake Shelton.

That’s it.

Simple.

With all that out of the way, Adam recalls that he needed to get food and other miscellaneous items for him and Blake, if they are to live under the same roof, so to speak.

Adam waits for a few minutes, to make sure his poor, tired body is okay with moving.

Pleased, he does his morning yoga routine for a good half hour, and then grabs his phone and keys.

(He’ll roll up his yoga mat when he gets back from the trip, he swears.)

It’s still relatively early enough that Adam can go grocery shopping without anyone hounding him, though it doesn’t hurt to wear a large hoodie to cover himself up.

His eyes are still a tiny bit swollen, but Adam is pretty sure he’s gonna avoid wearing any pair of sunglasses for a while, with all that catastrophic shit that went down last night.

Anyway, it winds up being a relatively quick trip, and Adam wasn’t stopped by anyone; not even once by a crazed fan, which is a blessing in itself.

He even bought Bacardi and Crystal Light for Blake, and still maintains that it is still _gross as fuck_ that the giant idiot mixes all that together.

_Shit’s unnatural._

And Adam also buys a shit-ton of coffee because _boy_ , are they going to need it.

Since no one is around to see, Adam makes a face at said items, in his bags.

He steps inside, bags rustling slightly as he closes the front door.

Adam whips off his hood and starts whistling absentmindedly as he piles the rest of his groceries on the kitchen counter.

No sign of Blake yet, which isn’t that strange since Blake tends to sleep in a bit more when he’s really drunk.

Adam wonders if that’s weird for him to know about.

That’s…just something a friend would know, right?

He can still be Blake’s friend, can’t he?

If Adam can’t have anything else, he’ll be content with just that.

With a heavy heart, Adam begins stocking his fridge; methodically, but briskly placing things wherever they should go.

At least his nervous energy is making him productive.

He’s about to reach for a stray jug of milk on the counter when he sees the quick flash of a familiar deer tracks/barbed wire tattoo and a large hand wrapping around his wrist.

Before Adam can say anything, Blake places one of his thick fingers on Adam’s lips, effectively shutting him up.

Bewildered, Adam can feel his eyes open wide as he stares stupidly at Blake.

After an awkward minute, Blake finally relents and pulls his finger away from Adam’s mouth, though the big hand on his wrist looks like it isn’t going anywhere soon.

They watch each other some more until Adam decides to say something because _Christ-_

_“What was that about?”_

“I wasn't _that_ drunk, Adam,” Blake mutters in response, “I know what I saw.”

Adam flinches back, like he’s being held at gunpoint, but he doesn’t move far because Blake’s hand is still gripping his wrist.

Blake narrows his eyes, frowning as he takes in Adam’s terrified deer-in-headlights expression.

He peers more closely at the rock star’s face, now that they aren't obscured by anything.

“You cried,” softly rumbles Blake, “and you were cryin’ before you ran away from me.”

Adam is not prepared for Blake’s hand to leave his wrist, and he welcomes its departure until large fingers are tracing carefully under the hollows of Adam’s eyes.

“It’s nothing-” Adam starts to interject, but Blake won’t stop mouthing off.

“That’s BS, buddy, and you know it.”

A raw burst of anger wells up in Adam’s chest at that; so much _madness_ and _melancholy_ that it’s suffocating him down to his very bones.

He can’t control his mouth.

“Oh? And I guess you would know, _asshole_? Because they’re your fucking initials?”

Blake isn’t too fazed, judging by his playful but sharp reply.

“As a matter of fact, _hell yeah_ I would know, dipshit. Thanks for pointing that out, again.”

Adam glares irately at Blake because _Jesus Christ, can’t that bastard leave him alone?_

Blake’s hair is still fairly mussed so his fingers momentarily leave Adam’s face to run his hand through his unruly brown curls.

He chances a glance at Adam, who is sitting against the now closed door of the fridge, tattooed arms cradling his skinny knees against the safety of his scrawny body.  

“Ya know, you used to be able to tell me everything,” drawls Blake, finally breaking the silence.

Adam says nothing, only sinking further down into himself, wishing he could just disappear into the floor and never have to see Blake ever again.

He closes his eyes against his knees, mentally praying for Blake to stop delving further into this issue because it just cannot be fixed.

“And now, you won’t tell me a single thing! All you’ve ever done is run away,” sighs Blake tiredly into Adam’s ears, sounding far closer than he did a second ago.

Adam is hauled upright by Blake, steadied by a heavy arm around his lithe waist.

‘No escape,’ thinks Adam, as Blake’s burning blue eyes come to meet his own.

_“What the fuck is wrong with you_?”

And that is a loaded question if Adam ever did see one.

"You know what?" Adam finally barks out. " _Fuck you._ There _is_ something wrong with me and _fine_ ; whatever, I'm not gonna be o _kay_ , but I'll just have to fucking _deal_."

Blake looks noticeably taken aback.

Adam is _so done_ with wishing the ground would swallow him up so he wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of the _confusionangerworry_ radiating from Blake’s blue eyes.

He flashes Blake a razor-sharp smile, full of malice.

“I’m not made of _glass_ , dickhead.”

Adam’s voice cracks, but luckily Blake is _mature_ for once, and doesn’t make a smartass comment.

“Why are you _so angry_ anyway, Big Country?” Adam taunts, smirking cockily at Blake, hoping to annoy him into leaving.

But Blake says nothing.

And he doesn't leave Adam.

Frustrated, Adam roughly bats Blake’s hands off of his body, and proceeds to turn in the direction of his room. 

Adam is taking a few steps forward when the anger fades and the sadness hits him.

He stops in his tracks for a minute, to collect himself.

It’s strange that Blake is _so angry_ , that much he knows.

Would a friend be so affected?

Or is there something more?

But Blake is merely getting Adam’s hopes up.

Adam has _no fucking clue_ why Blake would invest so much time on someone like him.

“I can’t say I’m worth the effort,” Adam means to whisper to himself, but more or less _fails_ because the next thing he knows, he’s pinned against a wall.

“ _Don’t you dare say that about yourself_.”

“Blake-”

“ _Don’t. You. Dare_ ,” rages Blake, punctuating each word with rough shake.

“ _I-but, why?”_

Adam is mystified beyond all belief.

“It’s because I _care_ about you, _you fucking idiot_!”

Adam’s breath hitches noisily against his throat.

Blake goes on.

“ _I care_ ,” he says, “to the point that seein’ you, like this- _well_ , _I just can’t stand it_ , Adam!”

And Blake fumbles Adam closer to him, so they’re face-to-face.

“Yer drivin’ me insane!” chokes out Blake, with so much pure fear governing his tone.

“You’re one to talk,” Adam dryly quirks his lips upwards.

It's a bitter little grin.

It’s too serious.

It’s not their banter.

Adam winces as he unceremoniously lands on the kitchen floor with a muted thud.

Blake looks stunned, and his broad shoulders are shaking ever so slightly. 

“What are-” starts Blake, “What are you talkin’ about?”

“Nothing,” states Adam, with too much frigid calm.

He turns away.

Blake sucks in a breath, like he’s getting ready to start shouting again, but once Adam looks up at him, he freezes.

Adam stares up at Blake with as much weariness and resignation that he can muster.

Blake can only stand there, watching him with trembling fingers, like he’s unsure of whether to throttle Adam or hold him close.

Then, Blake finally turns his back.

Adam simultaneously feels the smug thrill of victory as well as the aching stab of regret, clawing at his insides.

He’s still sitting on the kitchen floor when Blake goes out the front door with his phone in one hand and his keys in the other.

The door slams shut, but otherwise, it was generally far too calm and collected to be considered ‘storming out.’

He’s contemplating whether Blake left him for good when he notices his phone buzzing on the nearby counter.

Cautiously, Adam drifts toward it, and sees that it’s a text from Blake.

**Needed to go to meet up with Danielle and The Swons anyway**.

And almost, like an afterthought, Adam’s phone buzzes again.

**Might not be coming back for a couple of hours. Don’t wait up for me.**

Adam feels numb; sharp little pinpricks of aches consuming his whole entire body.

In a daze, he double-checks that he’s put all of his almost _long forgotten_ groceries into the fridge.

Everything is there and accounted for so he slowly makes his way to the living room.

Adam curls up into the sofa, and wishes that the world could just crumble around him until there’s nothing left.

If there’s nothing left; at least there’d be nothing to make Adam hurt so much any more.

\-----

Adam aimlessly wanders his house for the next few hours, like a lingering ghost.

His altercation with Blake has made him lose his appetite, but he forces himself to at least eat some snacks because he knows it’s not worth starving himself over.

That, and Adam would not be able to hide that from Blake; already paying so much attention to and always cracking jokes about how skinny Adam is. 

The rest of the day is spent writing new lyrics and texting the guys.

It appears that while Carson had kept his promise to _not_ tell the rest of Maroon 5 about Adam’s collapse, he _did_ tell them about Blake staying with Adam.

Adam types up excuses until his fingers are starting to ache.

He receives a new message from James.

**Use protection.**

He chucks his phone against the wall, not even caring when a part of his case snaps off.

_That’s the problem, he (Adam) and everyone else has treated this like a joke for so long that no one thinks twice about saying shit like that to his face._

It’s affecting him, and _James would_ _smack himself with his own guitar_ if he _knew_ what he was doing to Adam, but there’s nothing that can be done about all of this.

The viewers eat the ‘bromance’ crap up and putting a stop to it would probably make their ratings plummet, and Adam has come to love the show, and all the people in it- _too much_ -to actually do that.

He sneers, wondering what all those girls would think, _would say_ , if they only knew the extent of his true feelings for Blake Shelton.

Adam returns to the living room and plops down on the sofa, falling asleep almost instantly.     

He wakes up, an unknown amount of time later to Blake talking on the phone in the next room.

Adam creeps over to get a better vantage point to listen in on.

“I don’t understand what’s happening to him,” murmurs Blake into his phone.

“He’s eatin’ well enough, even doin’ his damn yoga _-I_ _damn near tripped on his dumb ole’ yoga mat_ -and everything else that should be making him better,” mumbles Blake, “but it’s not,” he trails off, “makin’ him any better.” 

There is an indistinct noise coming from the phone, answering Blake back.

Blake alternates between nodding his head enthusiastically at a person who cannot even see him- _the adorable son of a bitch, Adam thinks_ -and quietly muttering into the phone.  

“Alrighty, then,” the giant redneck frowns, after a while, “bye.”

And Blake’s just standing there, _helplessly_ , peering at his phone and looking thoughtful.

Adam braces himself, knowing that he’s gonna have to face Blake, no matter what.

He leans his body against the doorframe.

“Hey,” rasps Adam, throat still rough from sleep.

Blake jumps, and it wouldn’t be such a funny sight if Blake weren’t such a big man.

“D-did I wake you?” inquires Blake, gradually looking guiltier by the second.

“Nope,” lies Adam, shaking his head.

They share a companionable silence, and that’s really all that Adam could ever ask for.

Adam asks what Blake’s been up to, Blake tells him, and they’re soon easily cracking jokes at each other’s expense until Blake abruptly stops laughing.

It’s so disconcerting that Adam doesn’t see Blake’s hands planting themselves on his shoulders.

“ _Adam_ , you’ve got to know, buddy,” resolutely articulates Blake, “ _that I’m really_ _sorry_.”

He pauses, able to see that Adam is not shying away form his touch, and resumes speaking.

“I’m sorry for not taking our friendship seriously enough to see that _obviously_ , something was wrong with ya.”

“Wha-” Adam tries to interrupt, but is promptly silenced by a firm squeeze on his shoulder.

Blake prattles on.

“And ya know, maybe it’s expected of someone like you, who writes and sings such _beautiful, moving music_ , to be _a little hurt_ , _a little broken_ because of your past heartbreaks…”

_Urgh._

Adam wants to bang his head against every available surface.

_This is getting out of hand…_

“But Adam, even if you say all that self-deprecating crap like how you’re always callin’ yerself a cynical jackass and all that other bullcrap, you’re-you’re like a _star that shines the brightest_ in front of everyone’s eyes.”

“W-what. T-that’s just- _fucking lame_ … _corny as hell,_ _Shelton_ -” mumbles Adam because he’s gradually finding it harder and harder to complain about anything.

There’s a happy little feeling of warmth that is pleasantly tingling in his chest.

“Let me finish, idiot! I’m tryin’ my damned hardest to apologize to yer sorry ass!” huffs Blake, indignantly.

Adam sheepishly stops talking, even going far enough to do the ‘zipping the lips’ gesture the two of them were prone to doing.

Blake seems appeased enough by that and proceeds.

“You’re so intense and intriguing, Adam. Ya know, I wasn’t _completely screwing around_ when I said you make me lose my voice around you.”

_God_ , Adam remembers that one time Blake said that during the Blind Auditions.

He felt so goddamn _giddy_.

But Blake’s charming drawl is cutting into his memories.

“ _You’re just that special, Adam.”_

A beat.

“And you can _kiss my ass_ if you think otherwise, _ya dipshit city boy_.”

Adam, startled, chokes out a laugh.

It makes Blake’s eyes crinkle in amusement, face alight with pleased mirth; and _boy_ , is that a good look for the redneck idiot.

“Now,” Blake bashfully smiles, “how about we go on and eat?”

They decide to settle on ordering Chinese, and Blake, _ever the gentleman,_ refuses to let Adam pay.

“It’s just not right,” voices Blake, “fer you to pay, any way.”

_“But you’re my guest-”_

“ _That’s right!_ _I’m yer_ _guest_ , _and you_ _have_ _to listen to me_ ,” singsongs Blake, smug as a snake.

Adam sulks in defeat.

They both open the door to the star struck delivery boy and after Blake leaves to set the food on the table, Adam slips a generous tip in the kid’s back pocket.

The kid blinks, reaching for the money and turns red, stammering his thanks, though he rushes out as soon as his ringtone blasts ‘One More Night’ from his pockets.

“He’s got... _a_ _man-crush_ ,” croons Blake, head peeking out from the kitchen where the big lug has gone to get them drinks.

“Shut up,” Adam sniffs out in mock haughtiness. “I won’t apologize for being pretty.”

Blake has the audacity to laugh in Adam’s face.

But Adam must be hungrier than he thought because as he scarfs down his takeout, he registers Blake watching him eat with a fond expression.

He quizzically squints at Blake, furrowing his brows in confusion, with noodles still trailing messily from his mouth.

And Blake grins that familiar, lazy, stupidly brilliant smile of his, and everything almost seems like it could be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Another case of it being really angsty, funny, and then angsty, again...
> 
> Comments are awesome. Please comment.
> 
> P.S. 3 more chapters to go! Almost there!  
> (...And then the companion fic and sequel...never mind, not 'almost there'...)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life with Blake.

A few days pass.

It gets a little easier, living with Blake, surprisingly enough.

Their daily routine has settled to something enjoyable, comfortable; dare Adam say it, sickeningly… _domestic_.

They talk and laugh about fun and stupid and meaningless things that fill up their limited time together, making the transition from morning to night seem more lighthearted than it has any right of being.

Blake tries to coax Adam into eating just a little bit more, then puts Adam into an affectionate headlock once he guiltily complies, upon seeing Blake make a sad face.

Adam pretends to hate the constant headlocks, but he can't help it if his body presses closer to Blake’s each time they happen.

 _Yep,_ Adam officially has a bit of a _size kink_.

_Shut up._

And Blake, _the_ _bastard_ , always rubs his rugged, stubbly face against Adam’s, and _wow, okay_ , now Adam can sympathize with the girls that used to complain about him giving them beard burn.

_It stings like a motherfucker._

He threatens Blake by mutual beard burn by not shaving, but the giant idiot only chortles in amusement, never mind that Adam needs to avoid shaving, any way, for the filming of ‘Can A Song Save Your Life.’

Blake does not need to know any of that.

But it’s funny that despite Adam’s threats, Blake continues to be an unrelenting mammoth force of warmth and friendliness and touch.

Living with Blake makes it obvious that the big guy _is very hands on_ , and is at all not afraid to show his affection; judging by the way the giant freak casually picks him up, _cuddling_ Adam all the way to the rock star’s bedroom, and abruptly dumping him on the bed when he thinks Adam is working too hard.

‘Course, it probably is easy for Blake to do that because _Blake_ isn’t the one in their relationship who has to hide a _hard-on_ every time any of that freakin’ happens, _that son of a bitch_.  

Adam is so fucking lucky that Blake has been so _oblivious,_ this past week, or even essentially… _this whole time_.

But today is actually the last day Blake is staying with Adam.

Adam has no idea whether he should be happy or sad about that.

He’s just gonna settle on mixed emotions, for now.  

Blake has also been going out and working with the Swons and Danielle for the finale, while Adam has been meeting with his guys, planning for their soon-to-be-approaching tour that is definitely going to be fucking sweet.

With all things considered, if Adam tries hard enough, it’s easy to believe that nothing has ever changed between him and Blake.

There is still that ever-present affection laced into their snarky banter and provocative comments directed towards each other.

The only thing that Adam notices that’s changed is the way Blake watches him, sometimes, when they lapse into cozy silence.

One minute, they’re both feigning that they’re still checking their phones.

The next minute, Adam can see Blake, looking at him with tangible worry, from the reflection of his widescreen TV.

It shouldn’t be so adorable that Blake is such a failure at the art of subtlety.

_It really shouldn’t._

It’s the late afternoon when Adam finds himself back home.

The day so far has been productive.

Adam generally considers the day a victory because they made it through their rehearsals with only a few mock scuffles between him and James.

Though, Mickey surprised the both of them, that one time, by his (failed) attempt at a roundhouse kick that ultimately sent the three of them crashing to the floor.

Matt smirked at them the entire time.

PJ was busy being PJ, and Adam loved him for that.

Anyway, disregarding all that, they got a lot done, even planning out the numerous concert sets and all the other cool things they all loved about touring and performing.

So _damn it_ , Adam has _earned the right_ to plop tiredly on the living room couch, upside down, taking a well-earned rest.

He fiddles with his phone for a good while, but _apparently_ does not hear Blake come in, so lost in his texting to Jesse about how _James needs to seriously cut his hair because he sometimes sheds like a motherfucker all over their precious equipment-_

“Hey!” Adam squawks, once his phone is yanked abruptly from his fingers.

He’s met with the upside down image of Blake…frowning- _wait, no-grinning_.

“Why the hell are you doin’ that?” chortles Blake, a mix of curiosity and mirth, pointing at Adam in that ridiculous way the gigantic country singer is prone to pointing in, finger quirked in that particularly weird way.

“None of your business,” Adam mumbles flippantly, “go ‘way, now.”

_“Ya little-”_

Before Adam can prepare himself sufficiently, he is dragged to the floor and is tickled within an inch of his life.

Blake is relentless, and Adam is basically howling as he kicks out at Blake.

The kicks don’t connect at all because Adam is a mess; legs shaking, knees bending and unbending, toes curling.

Blake is _too close_ , chuckling loudly as he trails his big, clumsy fingers up Adam’s torso.

 _‘Fuck,’_ Adam thinks, now reminded of past, _very vivid_ wet dreams.

Luckily, Adam musters the panicked drive to roll out of Blake’s range, though it is more of an uncoordinated escape than a graceful one.

Adam is panting loudly, completely winded, _shit_.

 _God_ , Adam hopes he doesn’t get hard.

He thinks the unsexiest thoughts to calm his raging libido.

Then, something occurs to him.

A distraction.

“Want to watch a movie?” he rasps out to Blake, who is hunched over, smiling down at Adam.

“Sure,” Blake says, happily, before rushing to the kitchen to get a shitload of popcorn and of course, alcohol; Bacardi for him, vodka for Adam.  

“Let me take a shower first!” Adam hollers, already scrambling upstairs.

"Hurry your skinny ass on down when yer done!” Blake booms, good-naturedly.

Adam takes the shortest, coldest shower ever and tries not to think about Blake’s stupidly large hands on his body.

He towels his hair dry, slipping on a comfortable shirt and puts on thankfully loose, baggy pants, _just in case_ , of course.

“You look sexy with wet hair,” is all Blake has to offer, when Adam sits next to him.

“Fuck you,” grins Adam, reaching for his DVDs.

They end up watching some kind of action movie with a lot of explosions and mindless violence and corny one-liners.

Unbeknownst to Blake, Adam doesn't drink a single drop of vodka, worried for how his intoxicated self would act toward Blake; though he does grab his fair share of popcorn.

It’s great.

\-----

Blake finally falls asleep when the movie is halfway close to finished.

Adam turns everything off, before turning his attention to Blake.

He tiptoes quietly across the floor, creeping upstairs to retrieve a spare blanket, then creeping back down.

Adam carefully drapes it over Blake, involuntarily smiling when the big oaf grabs at the blanket in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath.

For a few moments, Adam lets himself take one last careful look at Blake because he knows this opportunity will probably never happen again.

It kinda _hurts_ , simply looking at him.

There’s-it's hard to explain-a contented _hollowness_ in Adam’s chest.

It’s heavy and painful, but there’s something about it that makes Adam feel at peace, even if said peace is fleeting and more likely to be false and eventually come crashing down towards his feet in the near future.

Adam accepts this.

He’s never going to have Blake.

_Maybe in a perfect world, but-_

“But it’s better off this way,” mutters Adam, out loud to himself, with an air of finality that makes him want to choke.

Adam grabs one of his stray guitars from the nearest wall.

He test out a few chords, to see if Blake stirs, but the country singer doesn’t make a single sound or movement.

Adam starts playing.

Most people say that Adam wears his heart on his sleeve, in conjunction to his tattoos.

But Adam’s always been better at voicing his emotions through song, and _well_ , Blake _is_ sleeping…

Adam doesn’t realize he’s finished playing the song until he hears Blake mumble something unintelligible.

He proceeds to investigate.

“Hey, bro? You awake?”

Blake grunts, in what Adam assumes is ‘giant country singer’ for an affirmative.

“Did I wake you? If I did, I’m sorry. I was trying to play quietly,” mumbles Adam, feeling a bit sheepish.

“…Nope. Woke up on my own,” Blake assures him, yawning, then glancing inquisitively at the blanket Adam had draped across him earlier, and then all the way back to Adam.

Adam hopes his face isn’t flushing as furiously as he imagines.

“Oh. Well, that’s one thing off my chest!” he states quickly, trying to regain his bearing, hoping to divert Blake’s attention.

It is successful.

“Your song,” Blake ponders, trailing off.

“What about it?” Adam can’t help but defensively ask.

For some reason, Blake’s opinion of the song is probably the most important thing on Adam’s mind, most likely because Adam actually wrote the song about Blake.

_Not that Blake needs to know that, or anything._

“It’s real pretty, but it sounds really sad?” 

“Heh, yeah,” nods Adam, trying his hardest not to look so wistful.

Blake can be a lot more perceptive than other people/Adam give the big lug credit for.

He clears his throat in mock importance, and begins strumming his guitar again, this time, a little louder so Blake can clearly hear.

“I decided that I should at least cash in on all of my emotional turmoil. Use it as a creative outlet. _Yay, capitalism!”_ Adam briefly fist-pumps, smirking sardonically. 

“Yer such a jackass,” Blake grins in reply, clumsily ruffling Adam’s hair.

“ _Quit it_ , you Sasquatch!” squawks Adam, scrabbling to stop Blake, but consequentially dropping his precious guitar with an audible thud.

Blake, the jerk, has the audacity to burst out in hysterics when he sees the priceless look on Adam’s face transforming to a glare.

“…I’m going to stab you,” Adam deadpans.

They spend their last night re-packing Blake’s stuff before turning in.

The finale is tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Sorry that took long. I'm kinda sick, but at least I finished today. I guess this chapter is partially dedicated to the anon on my Tumblr who requested the tickling bit? 
> 
> 2 more chapters.
> 
> Next: The finale, lap-sitting, Shakira and Usher talking to Adam...
> 
> Please comment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANNNNGGGSSST.

Adam arrives to the studio with mixed emotions.

On one hand, he can have fun and focus on his upcoming tour with the rest of the guys without worrying about seeing Blake.

On the other hand, he’s going to _fucking miss_ Blake, even if they’re going to have to see each other soon enough for the taping of the Season 5 Blind Auditions.

He’s brooding to himself when a random pair of arms wrap around him.

Adam turns around, meeting the shining eyes of Shakira, who is giggling as she cuddles into him.

‘Gerard Piqué is going to _kill me_ ,’ Adam muses to himself, but returns the hug as best as he can.

They chat a bit, catch up, and joke about the fact that both of them are out.

 Soon after, they drift into a companionable silence.

 “Adam-” Shakira starts, looking solemn, but freezes, staring at the space right behind Adam.

Curious, Adam is about to turn, when a heavy body collides into his own, effectively toppling him over.

 _“Crap! Sorry!”_ a familiar thick Southern drawl thunders into his eardrums.

Blake sheepishly grins at Adam, before lifting him off the floor.

“There ya go, little buddy!”

It's slightly unnerving how bursting with energy the big man seems to appear.

Adam blankly stares at him.

In a daze, he’s unaware that his suit picked up some dust from the floor.

Blake’s earsplitting grin falters a bit in the face of Adam’s lack of reaction, before the country singer makes a sharp noise in realization.

Without any warning, Blake towers over Adam, using his big hands to straighten Adam’s somewhat messy appearance out. 

“Quit it!” coughs out Adam, disconcerted that Blake is already touching him.

_Geez. No wonder I have such a big problem with all of this-_

Blake’s ecstatic voice breaks him out of his contemplations.

“Can ya believe it, Adam?” Blake beams, jumping up and down excitedly like an overgrown puppy.

 _“Ran’s back!”_ he shouts happily. “And just in time for my birthday! Isn’t that just the greatest thing?”

An aching weight settles in the pit of Adam’s stomach.

“Y-yeah, man!” Adam forces himself to croak out. “That’s pretty freakin’ amazing.”

Blake is all smiles, apparently happy that Adam seems happy enough for him.

 _“Hey! Ran! Git yerself on over here!”_ Blake, _the redneck giant,_ hollers, making both Adam and Shakira wince.

Blake turns to laugh at Adam’s expression, before finally noticing Shakira.

“Hey! I didn’t see you there, Shakira! How’ve ya been?”

Shakira makes something that resembles a disgruntled face, although it’s too cute for Adam to take seriously.

Blake, though, is another story.

The big oaf begins stuttering apologetically and running his fingers through his hair. 

“It’s okay, Blakey, I understand,” she finally singsongs.

“You do?!” exclaims Blake because apparently, today, he is louder than usual.

‘ _Probably because it’s both his birthday and the finale today,_ ’ reasons Adam, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement.

Rocking back and forth with her heels on, Shakira hums.

“Yeah, Adam is _so pretty_ that he’s the only person you see!”

And she stares at Blake, in such a way that it makes Adam’s blood run cold.

She’s _angry_ , Adam realizes, in horrified wonder.

Not because Blake didn’t notice her, but on behalf of Adam, _she’s fucking pissed off_.

She’s _baiting_ Blake, trying to see how exactly he responds.

Blake startles for a second, but regains his bearings, looking smug; the poor oblivious bastard. 

 _“Well,”_ drawls out Blake, “the man does look _pretty damn sexy_ in a suit,” the son of a bitch _actually_ has _the balls_ to state, making a show of lecherously looking Adam up and down, wolf-whistling like a _dick_.

Adam flushes, caught off guard, wishing for once that the universe could just end him because _fucking Blake Shelton is hellbent on making everything difficult._

He gulps, now seeing that Shakira is seething in unbridled rage at Blake, who only has eyes for Adam.

 _‘Blake isn’t doing this on purpose! He doesn’t know-He’s never going to know-Please, Shaki!’_ Adam frantically shakes his head in her direction, hoping that she somehow can hear his desperate thoughts.

But Blake sees Adam’s panicked gestures, and is about to come face-to-face with an infuriated Shakira.

_Shit._

He’s about to make a grab for Shakira and run off with her until he sees something (or _someone_ ) that immediately makes all the blood freeze in his veins.

“Nice to seeya again, Adam,” grins Miranda Lambert, who has finally navigated her way out of the small crowd of people.

She squeezes him on the shoulder and turns to say something to Shakira (who has luckily started smiling again, _just in time_ ), but Adam can only stand there in silent horror.

Blake doesn’t seem to notice, indicated by the way he sidles up next to Adam and slings a companionable arm over Adam’s lanky shoulders, watching his wife and another one of his fellow judges speak.

“What were you and Adam up to?” Miranda questions, with a sassy, raised eyebrow.

“Hmmm?”

Shakira slightly tilts her head in confusion, though her eyes narrow a tiny bit, almost completely imperceptible, had Adam not been staring.

“Ya know, here I was…mindin’ my own business when Blake just runs off on his own as soon as he sees _Adam_ , here!” chuckles Miranda amiably.

Puzzled, Adam looks up at Blake, who is busy avoiding his eyes and laughing awkwardly in embarrassment.

“We’re commiserating,” pleasantly states Shakira, “again.”

 _“Aw, hell no!”_ Blake abruptly exclaims, throwing his head back in laughter. “Not another one of yer big fancy words, Shakira!”

Adam can feel the reverberations from Blake’s laughter where the two of them are still joined together; Blake’s arm around him, hand gently resting on the side of Adam’s neck.

He wills down the light, warm, little piece of happiness that had started bubbling forth from his chest.

Adam decides to be a jerk, instead.

“They’re probably going to show how full of shit you are, Shelton,” quickly smirks Adam. _‘Diaphanous’ is a character on Sesame Street,’_ Adam scoffs, recalling Blake’s part of the recent segment. “Really, man? _Really?”_

They all laugh at the petulant face Blake makes at Adam.

“Good luck tonight, boys,” Miranda utters, after a few minutes, “and lovely lady,” she says, grasping Shakira warmly on the shoulders.

“Don’t make me _too jealous_ now, ya hear?” Miranda drawls, with a gorgeous smile accompanied by a wink. And “Blake, stop gropin’ that poor boy so much!” are her departing words.

Adam could cry right now from the sheer irony that even _Blake’s wife_ is joking about their bromance.

_Fuck my life._

He looks at Blake, whose eyes are fixed on Miranda’s retreating form.

Blake has got the most idiotic, happiest grin on his stupidly handsome face.

He should look beyond ridiculous, but to Adam, Blake is the most beautiful sight he has ever seen.

 _“I love that woman,”_ Blake tells them, glowing with happiness in a way Adam has never seen him.

 _“Yeah,”_ Adam breathes as Blake walks past, “it’s hard _not_ to see.”

Blake doesn’t hear but grins roguishly at Adam and Shakira from a couple of steps away, as he tries to catch up to Miranda, his long legs strolling briskly along the set.

Adam looks down, smiling softly and helplessly to himself.

_It’s okay, right?_

This empty pang of loneliness; flooding his insides.

But he’s always been a little frustrated and lonely, _and more than a little lost_ , even before he met Blake.

He’ll deal with it.

Adam is brought out of thoughts by Shakira, who gently grabs Adam’s hand; rubbing small, comforting circles into his palm.

She looks at him, and while his smile doesn’t _quite_ reach his eyes, _it’s enough._

The two of them meet Usher, on his way in, and see Blake rushing back to them.

They all get ready in their respective trailers.

The show is about to start.

\-----

They finally cut to break.

Adam all but storms out of the set, but holds his phone up to his face, pretending it’s an urgent call.

There are girls screaming at him, but he can’t deal with anything else, right now.

He slams his trailer door shut, yet again.

Adam is a _fucking_ _coward_ who just keeps hiding.

His door flings open, a second after.

It’s Shakira, again.

 _Déjà_ _-motherfucking-vu_.

Except, _this time?_

He’s not gonna cry.

“Why did he have to do that?” asks Adam.

Too calmly.

_Too quietly._

“Hey-” Shakira murmurs softly.

But he’s not listening.

He’s so done.

The sheer fury coursing through his shaking body is unrelenting.

He’s nothing but boiling rage going a mile-a-minute, volatile and pained.

“Why did he look _right at me_ , when he sang that?”

“Adam-”

“It’s so fucking messed up,” snickers Adam, bitterly sneering at himself. “It-” he harshly exhales, trying in vain to recollect himself for Shakira.

Adam sighs, and all of his pent-up resentment at Blake fades in the choking intensity of his own self-hatred.  

“It’s bad enough that I had to sit in his fucking lap.”

Adam recalls how the audience had _roared_ with _hysterical glee_ as soon as he sat himself down on Blake.

It’s almost like everything in the world is conspiring to _fuck_ with Adam.

Fucking with him by making him feel like he can be Blake’s and Blake can be his.

_Like it isn’t entirely impossible._

Adam lets out a humorless laugh.

“He’s the reason _why_ I’m like this, and he’s the reason _why_ I’m trying so hard to pull myself together so he _doesn’t find out,”_ Adam trails off, vulnerable as hell.

 _"For fuck's sake_ , I missed my freakin' cue because I was too busy _staring at him!"_

He doesn't say anything for a while, after that.

But the quiet doesn't last long.

“I’m such a _goddamn fuck-up_ , Shaki,” smiles Adam joylessly, pained. “What _the fuck_ is wrong with me?”

His eyes are raw with pure hurt and self-loathing.

Shakira moves to come closer, but in the light of Adam’s outburst, she neglected to shut the door, which slowly opens.

Adam’s heart skips a beat.

His knees give out.

_Nononononononono-_

_Anyone but him._

_Please._

_Please!_

Usher steps in, effectively preventing Adam from choking on his anxiety.

Adam and Shakira stare at him, motionless.

The air is suffocating.

“Hey,” he mumbles thoughtfully, “was that all true?”

Adam’s eyes go wide.

_Fuck._

“Couldn’t help but overhear, man,” Usher continues, looking uncomfortable. “I was pretty close to the door, at that point.”

“And Blake?” Adam hears himself rasp.

“He was looking for you,” Usher reports. “Saying he was ' _kinda worried'_ would have been an _understatement_.”

“Are you gonna say something to him? _Don’t!”_ Shakira pleads, shaking Usher roughly by the shoulders as Adam looks on vacantly.

“Hey! Hold up!” mutters Usher, uneasily, trying to get Shakira to relinquish her tight grasp on him.

Eventually, he succeeds, and kneels down in front of Adam, who is still somewhat shell-shocked from everything.

Usher looks him straight in the eye, completely serious, no hint of his usual nonchalance.

There is nothing but sincere compassion reflected back at him, and at that moment, Adam feels like a complete dickwad for being even _remotely jealous_ of Usher.

“I won’t, Adam. I promise,” he says, holding out a careful hand.

Swallowing thickly, Adam nods, allowing himself to be pulled up.

“Thanks, man,” he murmurs. “It means a lot.”

Shakira and Usher hold on to him, like they’re afraid he’s gonna fall at any moment.

“You two can let go now. I'm okay,” mumbles Adam, shrugging them off as calmly as he can.

Adam doesn’t look back.

They’ll be with him and Blake soon enough.

He steels himself for the rest of the night; telling himself, _‘It’s okay, it’s alright._

_Everything’s almost over.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, and this isn't even the end! You'll be cursing my name, soon enough, though.
> 
> Please comment!
> 
> P.S. I was listening to Taylor Swift's "Safe & Sound" while writing this.
> 
> BAD IDEA.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

Adam doesn’t know what possesses him to do that.

 _After he came back from his freak out session with Shakira and Usher, Blake was literally on Adam, barraging him with questions like,_ ‘ _What’s wrong? You okay? Can I help_?’

But actually, no, _fuck it_ , Adam _knows_ why.

It’s the least he could do…especially since he’s been neglecting his duties as a best friend.

Never mind that he already fails as a best friend, seeing that he _is_ , in fact, _in love_ with Blake.

Realizing that the coast is clear, Adam scurries past screaming girls, who are more or less rabid at this point for his sweet body.

He doesn’t blame them.

But he’s embarrassed enough that he basically lead the whole entire freakin’ audience to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Blake.

And while the action in itself was totally awesome, Adam isn’t so sure he was quite ready to do that.

For starters, the fact that he no longer considers Blake as ‘just a friend’ anymore means that his actions are now more burdened with the knowledge that he is in love with the guy and would essentially do anything to make the big lug happy.

Usher and Shakira are _waaaaaay_ better friends for Blake.

At least the two of them aren’t _pining_ for Blake like _total_ _morons_.

Additionally, Carson, both Christinas, Cee Lo, and _essentially anyone else in the world_ would probably be better friends for Blake than Adam.

Adam is such an idiot.

Looking back, this all makes sense.

From Season 1 and on, all of the bickering, flirting, _lap sitting_ , and shared laughter, should have made it so obvious.

Was it really so surprising he fell in love with Blake?

Adam even remembers last season’s Wrap Up Party, specifically when he was playing the drums for Amanda’s ‘Dream On’ performance.

Her energy was wildly infectious, and Adam recalls striking the drums with such force, ecstatic adrenaline rushing through his veins.

He was busy, you know, _rocking out_ , when nearing the song’s end, he feels a warm weight steadily resting on his shoulder.

Adam looks to the side, still banging the drums with excited ferocity, and first sees Blake grinning at him and pointing at James, who’s appeared out of nowhere.

He barely hears their antics over the beat of the drums that he is playing, but he is sure they are both acting up.

Adam, like a pro, does not let them distract him for too long, though.

He plays until the very end, and then turns to face his two good friends.

And the pair of them are two of his most favorite people in the world: Blake Shelton and James Valentine, hovering over his shoulder, smiling like two drunken idiots.

_It would have been perfect if the rest of his guys were here, on the stage, with them._

Still, Adam vividly recalls his own grin practically splitting his face in two.

In that moment, he was at his happiest; surrounded by his beloved music and the people he had come to love.

It used to be so simple, back then.

\-----

While he’s lost in his thoughts of a certain giant redneck, Adam doesn’t notice said giant redneck right in front of him.

He walks straight into Blake and Adam’s slighter frame bounces off of him into an ungraceful flail of limbs.

Adam’s about to hit the ground in an ungainly heap before he’s caught by his waist by Blake, who has _the_ _nerve_ to _squeeze Adam’s hips_ and suggestively wink at him before straightening him out.

_Asshole._

“Now, where do ya think you’re goin’, buddy?"

Adam refuses to speak to such an _asshole_.

“Swooning so soon, Adam?” Blake smirks, playfully. “I knew you wanted me to touch yer sweet, scrawny, little body, but…”

“Shut the fuck up. We can’t _all_ be _drunken redneck giants_ ,” defiantly mutters Adam, feeling both self-conscious and sick down to his very bones.

“ _Awwwww, but Adam!_ That’s not a nice thing to say to me, especially _today_ , ya silly city slicker!”

Adam simply rolls his eyes at Blake’s embarrassingly saccharine tone.

It does not mesh well with such a rugged, manly, redneck son of a bitch like Blake Shelton.

 _“Well?”_ Blake downright _leers_ at him, _damn him_.

“What,” is his clever response.

“Aren’t ya gonna say something to me?

Adam breathes out and then rolls his eyes, trying his best to look as insulted as he possibly can.

“Congrats on your three-peat,” Adam pauses briefly, _“you dickhead.”_

Blake straight-out guffaws at that.

Adam grins fondly at him; eyes glowing with affection.

He swoops in for a firm handshake, but yet again, Blake soon makes it known that he won’t take any of that crap.

Adam shouldn’t be surprised because Blake has already pulled shit like this before, during taping.

Blake essentially smirks, grabs the stunned rock star’s wrist, and pulls Adam into the fiercest bear hug he’s ever received in his life.

He’s all flailing limbs (yet again), but Blake manages to press Adam into his solid bulk, arms easily but carefully encircling Adam’s skinny waist. 

The next thing Blake does is nuzzle his stupid, handsome face into the crook of Adam’s neck, stubble brushing against Adam’s ear.

It should be uncomfortable, but since it’s Blake, Adam’s never felt so secure and warm.

That doesn’t stop Adam from trying to push Blake away, though.

“And hey, thanks for leading everyone into singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me. Or did ya think I’d forget?” Blake lightheartedly chuckles, against Adam’s neck.

“I was hoping you would, actually,” Adam clears his throat and grimaces, suddenly bashful.

They stare at each other with stars in their eyes, like the two biggest idiots in the world.

“Seeya next season, cowboy,” Adam finally musters the strength to say.

He really doesn’t know how long he can take not seeing Blake, even if it isn’t for very long.

“Yeah, next season. Take care of yerself, buddy,” Blake laughs, the gigantic hick, giving Adam yet another all encompassing embrace that makes Adam feel so achingly small, but protected and cherished and _loved_ , all the same.

The strangest thing is that Adam doesn’t try to pull away afterwards because it’s too much-it’s so dumb-it’s so wonderful- _it hurts_ -

As an alternative, he gingerly rests his arms on Blake’s broad shoulders, linking his fingers on the back of Blake’s neck, unknowingly mirroring the grasp Blake has on Adam’s own waist.

He can tell Blake is surprised; the larger man noticeably flinches, probably not expecting Adam to _not_ even attempt to pull away in feigned rejection.

“I will,” Adam crookedly beams back instead, rueful and longing, but still a little _happier_ than he was when he started the show, nonetheless.

His face must be giving this all away because Blake noticeably pauses, watching Adam with awed, tremendously blue eyes.

That particular look in Blake’s eyes is mysteriously fleeting, and his expression melts into a soft smile, though a part of it seems pained.

After a good few minutes, Blake finally turns his back, apparently eager to get to the general direction of Danielle and the Swon Brothers, as well as back to Miranda, or so it seems.

And if it’s because of something else entirely, Adam won’t know.

He says more after that, but Blake never hears it over the chatter of the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be grateful I didn't go through with what I originally had...Blake not realizing anything at all, though WHAT exactly he realized may be ambiguous until I post his POV. I felt this would be too upsetting otherwise, if Adam was left angsting completely alone.
> 
> I'll be going back to college, but I'll try to stay somewhat active!
> 
> Please comment! And thank you so much for taking the time to read this! I really appreciated all the feedback. :)


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